Homesick
by T. A. Aberforth
Summary: In which Kurt has appendicitis.


**A/N- Insert witty disclaimer here. This takes place sometime after 'A Very Glee Christmas'. Enjoy!**

_XOXOXOXO_

Dalton Academy. My new school.

It was hard, to say the least, to adjust. I was used to freedom of dress, not a red, navy, and black uniform that bound me to limits of expression and accessories. The lack of slushie facials was welcome, but my wardrobe was being sacrificed in different ways. I did miss seeing and interacting with females every day. They understood that Marc Jacobs was a beautiful brand of clothing, not laundry detergent. I once tried to have an intelligent conversation with Jeff, and while he was smarter than the Neanderthals I used to be surrounded by, he was ignorant of the radiance that was H&M.

The classes were much more challenging than McKinley's. I wasn't struggling, per say, but it was hard to keep up the A's I usually pulled. But I'd be damned if I let Dad and Carole throw away their honeymoon for me to flunk out. The late night study sessions were beginning to take a toll on my beauty care routines and health, though. The bags that circled my eyes were almost as big as the ones I lugged home with me every weekend, and nowadays I ran on around 2 hours of sleep and hefty amounts of caffeine. Boarding was something I had mixed feelings about. My room was beautiful, but every once in a while, the homesickness would hit me and all I wanted was to curl up on my unnaturally soft bed and cry. I didn't have a roommate, one of the advantages of transferring in the middle of the year. I would room with Blaine if the spare bed in his dorm wasn't consumed by David. When it all caught up with me, I knew it wasn't going to be pretty. Crashing and burning? Not a good look on my normally flawless face. I could almost feel it hanging over me, in the form of sharp stomachaches and migraines that would appear out of the blue and floor me.

My appetite has been going out the window, too. It was the main focus of home dinners nowadays. It was probably a stomach bug going around, but I didn't want to worry my dad. So I'd push my organic meatloaf and green beans around while Burt and Finn chatted about football or something equally boring and Carole would comment on my eating habits.

"Sweetie, are you alright?" she'd say, concern lacing her tone and green eyes.

"I'm fine. I had a, uh, big lunch." I'd reply, nonchalant.

"All you ate was half a tuna sandwich."

"I'm fine, Carole," My smile would strain and she would accept it, drop the subject, and tell Finn to stop eating like he was raised by a pack of wolves and to close his mouth while he chewed. But even Finn had to notice something was up with me when I woke up in the middle of the night, running to the bathroom to involuntarily puke up the little bit of dinner I had eaten.

_XOXOXOXO_

I had first period French II which I was going to be late for if the line at The Lima Bean didn't move any faster. If I've been standing in line for half an hour at the coffee shop, and the person in front of me can't decide what they want in the other half hour it took them to get there, I should be allowed to shoot them. It didn't help that it was really hot in here and I was wearing my new cashmere scarf.

When I finally got my nonfat mocha, I walked back to Dalton, sipping along the way. It was only a few blocks, but it left me windblown and chilled to the bone, despite the fact that the weather was unusually warm for early March.

Reaching Homeroom, I realized I wasn't the only one running late. Blaine, Jeff, and Thad all ran in different directions. I knew Blaine had the same first hour class as me, so I walked toward him quickly. "Blaine! Wait for me!" I called, feeling my voice give out a bit. I felt a sharp stab of pain in my lower right midsection, almost like a knife, but ignored it.

Blaine turned just as I caught up to him, but I didn't stop walking. We collided headfirst, Blaine holding onto my shoulders to support my lithe frame. "Whoa," he said, steadying me and kissing my forehead gently. "Slow down." As craplike as my day was starting out, I felt better just being in the presence of my boyfriend. It still felt weird to call him that, even though we'd been together for about two weeks now. Believe it or not, I had Brittany, of all people, to thank for it. She'd visited Dalton to make sure the other dolphins and sharks were treating me okay. I still wasn't sure how she had gotten here without directions. When she mentioned what a great kisser I was to Wes, of all people, Wes told his roommate Blaine, who apparently got jealous. He confronted me, confused and upset, and in the middle of our blowout, I kissed him. It did shut him up faster, and the rest was, as they say, history.

We began to walk to French II, which just happened to be all the way on the other side of the building. My stomachache had dulled from sharp butcher knife to annoying cramp-like pain. If this was how girls felt every month, I was glad my position was only honorary. "So why are you late?" I asked.

"I sort of forgot to set my alarm last night." Blaine said sheepishly.

"Only you, Blaine. Only you."

"Well why are you late then?" he shot back, blushing slightly.

I stumbled a bit as the pain in my stomach came back full force. "Oh," I blinked hard, suddenly feeling like I'd left my brain back at The Lima Bean. Dizzy didn't even begin to cover it. "I don't feel so hot," I said softly while I slid slowly down the wall I didn't realize I was resting on.

"Kurt? What's wrong?" he concerned face swam in my line of sight, which was quickly becoming blurry.

"Please stop moving," I mumbled.

Blaine frowned. "Kurt, I'm standing completely still."

"Can we go sit down? The merry-go-round won't stop spinning,"

"Alright, let's go to the nurse's office."

"But I have French," I protested weakly as Blaine hauled me to my feet and half-walked, half-dragged me down the hall. "You have French, we have French! I can make it. Je ne suis pas malade. You're overreacting."

"How about we let Ms. Alger decide that?" We reached the nurse's office and Blaine knocked on the door softly. When a voice sounded from inside telling us to enter, we entered. Well, Blaine entered. I stood and swayed on the spot, almost falling over. Blaine grabbed my waist and pulled me in, and I would have marveled at that if it hadn't jolted awake the knife-like pain in my stomach.

"Blaine, mon ventre me fait mal," I whimpered.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," he immediately let go of me and I sat down in the nearest plastic chair I could find. While he told Nurse Alger the situation, I pulled out my notebook and began to conjugate complex French verbs. It was the only thing distracting me at this point.

"Kurt?" Blaine called. "The nurse wants to talk to you." He walked over and gingerly helped me stand up, pulling me to a plastic cot that in no way looked comfortable.

Once I got settled lying down (it wasn't comfortable), Nurse Alger began to ask me a series of lengthy, time-consuming questions. She was a semi-attractive young woman in her late thirties with light green eyes, dark skin, and wavy black hair. She seemed nice, but she was keeping me from my favorite subject with these questions. "How have you been sleeping?"

I frowned. "I haven't, really. Maybe about eight hours a week?"

"What's been bothering you?"

"There's a lot more work here than I'm used to. And I do get a little homesick sometimes." I admitted.

"What about health wise?"

"I've been getting these random headaches, sweating and chills, I haven't been eating much, and my stomach's been bothering me. Sometimes I'll wake up in the middle of the night vomiting, and I'll get stomachaches on and off all the time." Nurse Alger nodded, writing it all down on her little clipboard.

Beside me, Blaine looked like he was about to have a coronary. "Why didn't you say something?" he asked, taking my hand.

"I didn't want to worry anybody." I whispered.

"Kurt, I want you to tell me exactly where the pain in your stomach is." Nurse Alger instructed me.

"Lower right, on the side of my belly-button. It varies up and down, but I swear it's like someone took a frigging butcher knife and _stabbed_ me. How is this relevant?" I questioned.

"I think you might have appendicitis." With that one word, Blaine gripped my hand tighter and I glanced at him. "Here, I'll take your temperature to make sure." She got up, walked over to a cabinet, and pulled out a strange-looking medical device. It had a plastic base and cushioned top, and if my mind was in the gutter, I'd say it looked inappropriate.

"What is that?" Blaine asked hesitantly, and I knew his thoughts had traveled in the same direction as mine.

"Forehead thermometer. Top-of-the-line and very accurate."

We both breathed sighs of relief. The thermometer was swiped across my forehead once, and seconds later, it beeped. "103.8° Fahrenheit. A fever if I've ever seen one." She turned to me with a serious look in her eyes. "Sweetie, I hate to say this, but you need to go to the hospital."

I blanched. "What? Can't I just take some antibiotics and rest?"

"Kurt… you need surgery." I felt the little remaining blood in my face drain out. My belly churned with the half-digested bagel I'd been able to choke down this morning. Luckily, there was a conveniently placed trashcan next to the bed for me to empty my breakfast into.

I hated throwing up. It made me feel unclean, disgusting, and embarrassed. Especially when my boyfriend stood behind me, wiping stray hairs from my sweaty face. I disliked being sick in general, what with the chicken noodle soup, the bed rest that quickly turned into bed-arrest, and the people fussing over you.

When I was done puking my guts out, I sat back up and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "Ugh."

"We have to call your dad now, alright?" the nurse said.

If possible, my face got even whiter. "No! He's sick, his heart-" I was cut off as another wave of vomit came up my throat, out my mouth, and into the trash can beside me. Blaine rubbed soothing circles on my back. I sat up, feeling a desperate need to brush my teeth, and took a deep breath. "I don't want to worry him."

"You have to. It's the only way you're going to feel better." Blaine argued.

"I'm _fine._" I hissed through clenched teeth. Nurse Alger left, presumably to find my file and make some calls. "I don't need to go the hospital."

"Kurt, I'm not going to stand here and let you die!" Blaine yelled at me.

I was stunned. My eyes most likely resembled Ms. Pillsbury's right now, and I stared at Blaine in wide-eyed shock. I saw dismay settle over his face as he realized what he said. He reached out his hand, and opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

I burst into tears.

Blaine had _never _raised his voice anywhere near me, let alone shouted directly at me. And at that point, I was triggered, and it seemed like all my negative emotions had built up at that moment and burst out in the only way they knew how.

So, I cried.

I cried for everything that was wrong in the world, the homophobia, the godlessness, the pain, the total _unfairness _of life. I sobbed for my long-gone mother, my father who might join her when he heard of my condition, being shunned by the Warblers for my talent, and driven away from my home by Karofsky.

I bawled for what seemed like hours, and Blaine came over and put his arms around me gently. "I'm sorry," he whispered, rubbing small circles on my back. "I was upset. I shouldn't have said 're not going to die."

"It's not just you," I said brokenly. "It's... everything!" I grabbed a handful of Kleenex from the table next to us and blew my nose. "It's life. Oh my GaGa, I'm such a mess."

"You're not a mess. You're so strong, Kurt. And so beautiful, inside and out. Never forget that."

"Well, if my appendix bursts, I'm not going to be very beautiful inside. Or alive." I breathed, twisting a bit to face him. Our faces were inches apart, foreheads resting together in a show of surrender.

"So you're going?"

"You say that like I have a choice."

"True."

"If I didn't, you would have Wes and David stuff me in the trunk and drive me to the emergency room with a police siren on the top of the car."

"Also true. I'm not sure I would let them stuff you in the trunk though. You know cars too well, you'd find a way to escape."

"Mm-hmm," I murmured softly. I leaned in, closing the distance between us with my lips pressing on his sweetly. I pulled back after a few seconds and stared into his steady hazel eyes. "Will you come with me?"

"To the hospital?" He inquired. I nodded. "Of course I will. I'd hold your hand during surgery, but I don't think it's hygienic. Or allowed."

I heard sirens approaching and stiffened. "Blaine, I need you to grab some clothes from my room. Just the basics, since you can't really coordinate. And my stuffed bunny and baby blanket on my bed. Please?"

He kissed my forehead. "I'll be right back so I can ride with you in the ambulance." Blaine untangled himself from me and walked out quickly, almost colliding with Nurse Alger who was reentering the office.

"The ambulance is on its way, and your father is going to meet you at the hospital, okay?" said the nurse.

"Alright," I forced a weak smile. She was a much better nurse than Mrs. Shuester had been, but anyone who didn't hand out pseudoephedrine to high schoolers by the box would probably make a more competent nurse than she had. The door to the office opened once more and Jeff entered, clutching a bloody nose and being supported by Wes. Nurse Alger rushed over to begin treating him, and Wes walked over to my cot.

"What are you in for? You don't look to be bleeding or in immediate danger of dying. Are you skipping?" He asked suspiciously.

"I have appendicitis, thank you very much, Wesley. The ambulance is on its way, so while I may not look like I am dying, I certainly feel like it and I just might if my appendix bursts." I hissed angrily. Wes' eyes widened and he backed away from my cot slowly, apologizing profusely, until he backed into Blaine, who was standing behind him and holding my duffel bag. I sighed. "Sorry."

"No, dude, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- it just sort of slipped out- I mean-" He tripped over his words.

"It's alright, Wes. You didn't know." Blaine looked confused, and I sent a shrug in his direction. "Why does Jeff have a bloody nose?"

"He got up to do his oral report for English, tripped on his shoelace, and landed face first on the ground. That kid has bad reflexes."

I shook my head sadly. "Yes, it sounds like-" I stopped talking as I heard ambulance sirens pull closer and stop, right outside the window. "Oh, sweet Grilled Cheesus."

"What's a 'grilled cheesus?'" Wes questioned, but Blaine and I ignored him.

"I guess this is our cue to leave, Blaine," I said monotonously.

"Can you make it outside?"

"I think so," I sat up, turning my dull stomachache into sharp, piercing pain, and I stifled a small scream of pain. "M-maybe not."

I was too tired to do anything more than protest weakly as Blaine scooped me up, bridal style, and began to carry me outside. Besides, it was sort of nice. And warm. Really, really warm. The rhythmatic rocking while he walked was probably what lulled me ultimately into a deep sleep, free of pain or dreams.

_XOXOXOXO_

Hummel-Hudson Residence/3rd person POV

Finn was on his 3rd stage of Call of Duty: Black Ops when the house phone rang. He hit pause on his Xbox360 remote and grabbed the telephone next to him. Whoever it was, they had better have a good reason for interrupting his COD spring break marathon extravaganza. (Of course, he could have waited for his mom or Burt in the kitchen to pick it up, but he didn't like the ringing and mundane details like that never really registered in Finn's head.)

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is Nurse Alger from Dalton Academy," replied a smooth voice on the other end. "Is Burt Hummel presently speaking?"

Finn furrowed his brow. Why the hell would a nurse from Kurt's new school be calling? "Um, no, I'm his stepbrother… is he okay?"

"I'm afraid I can't disclose information about his condition with anyone other than immediate family."

Finn stood up and began walking to the kitchen. He handed the cordless to Burt without a word. The doorbell rand and Finn ran to answer it. Tina stood in the doorway, a boom box in hand and a smile on her face. "Ready to practice?"

"What?" he said dazedly.

Tina frowned slightly. "Mr. Shue gave us an assignment for Spring Break, remember? The second duets competition? We're partners."

"Oh, right," Finn scratched his head awkwardly. "Um, come in." He was never going to finish his COD marathon at this rate.

"I was thinking we could do 'A Little Priest' from Sweeney Todd or 'I Don't Need Anything But You' from Annie. Do you have any suggestions?" Tina asked in her soft voice, a complete contrast to the shouting in the kitchen.

"_WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY SON HAS TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL?" _Finn and Tina both blanched at that.

"Kurt has to go to the hospital? Why, what's wrong with him?" Tina questioned.

"I don't know, a nurse from his school called and didn't say why." Finn was beginning to panic. "I thought this was a zero-tolerance bullying school! What if he's hurt? What if Karofsky showed up and-" Finn was cut off by Tina.

"I don't think Karofsky even knows where Kurt is. And even if he did, I'm pretty sure he isn't smart enough to plan out a two hour drive just to hurt Kurt."

Finn was paralyzed. He had told Karofsky where Kurt was, stupidly believing they were friends because he was briefly in New Directions. His reverie broke when Burt walked into the room. "Kurt has appendicitis. He'll be at Sacred Heart for surgery in about two hours. I'm going now, are you coming?" Burt said gruffly.

Finn nodded. "Tina, are you coming?"

"Definitely." Tina grabbed her boom box, got back in her car, and sent out a mass text to the rest of ND.

_'SOS! K has appendicitis, Sacred Heart, surgery in 2hrs.'_

_XOXOXOXO_

When I woke up, the first thing that I noticed was the lights were _really_ bright, uncomfortably so. Everything here was uncomfortable, whatever I was laying on, the dull pain in my navel, the buzz of loud voices in the room. I groaned softly, and all the voices stopped, listening.

"Is he awake?" I heard Finn whisper.

"I think so," my dad whispered back.

"Me too," said Carole.

I sat up slowly. "Me three."

Finn screamed. "I thought you were asleep!"

"No you didn't. I wasn't dead either, Finnegan."

"Don't call me that, dude!"

"Never call me dude."

"Stop bickering, you two!" Carole said, exasperated. She smiled at me. "Do you feel any better, sweetie? You must if you're already fighting with Finn."

"I don't feel like I got stabbed anymore, so that's a plus." I said. "When am I getting my s-surgery?" My lips stumbled over the word.

"It's being prepared, so in about an hour and a half." Carole replied easily. "Blaine and most of New Directions are in the waiting room."

_XOXOXOXO_

In Waiting Room/3rd Person POV

Santana, Quinn, and Puck looked uncomfortable, like the hospital smell was getting to them. Brittany, Rachel, and Tina all seemed on the verge of tears. Mercedes was pacing a hole in the floor. Mike, Artie, and Sam were all staring at Blaine like they wanted to dissect him, and Blaine looked extremely uncomfortable under their combined, studying glares. This all continued until Mike wheeled Artie over in front of Blaine's chair.

"Are you dating Kurt?" Artie asked, point blank.

Blaine blinked. "He didn't tell you? Our two week anniversary is in three days." With those words, Santana looked disappointed, Quinn, Rachel, Tina, and Brittany looked excited, and Mercedes, Puck, Mike, Sam, and Artie looked confused.

"I didn't know you were a dolphin too," Brittany said.

"What's a dolphin?" asked Blaine, confused.

"It's a gay shark." She replied. "Everyone knows dolphins are just gay sharks. Kurt is my dolphin, but I guess I can share him with you. But if you hurt him and make him sad again, I'll shoot you out of a cannon. I don't like it when my dolphin is sad. But you seem like a nice one."

"Hold the hell up. Kurt is dating you?" Artie confirmed.

"He just said that, Professor X. What I want to know is why. What make you think you're good enough to date our Kurt?" Puck stood up, cracking his neck ominously.

_XOXOXOXO_

**A/N- ... Oh my grilled cheesus. This is the longest thing I've ever written for FF, evah! I is so prouds of me. Throw some reviews at me please! Since I worked so hard...?**

**This is going to be a two-shot, I swear. Now I will go work on my other two-shot.**

**Also, I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE I AM GOING WITH THIS. At all. **

**Did anyone catch the very slight refrence to one of my other stories...? Hmm?**

**Reviews make me ridicouly happy and the people who write them are golden.**


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